[He's not actually tried this yet, is the thing. He knows it's not the standard priest power, and he knows what it's supposed to do, but he doesn't know what it'll look like, or how painful it'll be.
So, Atem stands on the balls of his digitigrade feet, in their living room, and takes a deep breath. It can't be that different from swapping to the undead-form, right?
He holds a clawed, furred hand up in front of his face, and lets his breath out.
The breath comes out fog. The fog brushes through his fingers, which turn briefly to fog themselves, before reappearing with different claws, with skin instead of fur. The change travels smoothly up Atem's arm: werewolf flesh turns to fog turns to skin, first up to the wrist, then to the elbow, then to the shoulder.
If Ryou's sharp and recognizes the claws, he might be able to tell what Atem's turning into before the change reaches Atem's head and makes it obvious: the fog coalesces into a couple dozen little snakes, their eyes milky-white and fogged for a moment before clearing. Their tongues taste the air with interest, curious, trying to collect data. Atem's eyes are fog-white, too, mist swirling in the space between the lids -- but those clear, as well.
His left arm changes at the same time as his torso; his legs disappear and are replaced with tue trunk of a snake's body, all the way down to a sistrum rattle-tail, which lets out one musical tone before Atem stills it.
It only takes fifteen, twenty seconds at most -- Atem wonders if he can force it faster, with practice -- before Atem's seated on his tail in front of Ryou, looking like he hasn't looked since August. The cloak still rests on his shoulders, sways gently over the coils of his tail. Atem looks himself over, pushing himself up and twisting in the air to get a better look at it all. The snakes look with him, peering at the red and black scales, the cloak, the rattle.]
no subject
So, Atem stands on the balls of his digitigrade feet, in their living room, and takes a deep breath. It can't be that different from swapping to the undead-form, right?
He holds a clawed, furred hand up in front of his face, and lets his breath out.
The breath comes out fog. The fog brushes through his fingers, which turn briefly to fog themselves, before reappearing with different claws, with skin instead of fur. The change travels smoothly up Atem's arm: werewolf flesh turns to fog turns to skin, first up to the wrist, then to the elbow, then to the shoulder.
If Ryou's sharp and recognizes the claws, he might be able to tell what Atem's turning into before the change reaches Atem's head and makes it obvious: the fog coalesces into a couple dozen little snakes, their eyes milky-white and fogged for a moment before clearing. Their tongues taste the air with interest, curious, trying to collect data. Atem's eyes are fog-white, too, mist swirling in the space between the lids -- but those clear, as well.
His left arm changes at the same time as his torso; his legs disappear and are replaced with tue trunk of a snake's body, all the way down to a sistrum rattle-tail, which lets out one musical tone before Atem stills it.
It only takes fifteen, twenty seconds at most -- Atem wonders if he can force it faster, with practice -- before Atem's seated on his tail in front of Ryou, looking like he hasn't looked since August. The cloak still rests on his shoulders, sways gently over the coils of his tail. Atem looks himself over, pushing himself up and twisting in the air to get a better look at it all. The snakes look with him, peering at the red and black scales, the cloak, the rattle.]
H̷u̵h̶...that didn't hurt at all.